Monday, April 7, 2008

Strung Out in Heavens High

Hey guys, What’s up? Blake Carlson here, checking up on ol’ Blogopolis. It’s sometime, in the getting late afternoon, and I just found a beer with head still in it. Well, it’s been open for about twelve hours now, but it’s alright and I’m going to suck it down while I write this to you readers out in interspace

I saw Spoon the other day. And the Walkmen. That band is so bad. How can anyone stomach that shit? Have you heard them? Have you seen them live? Lead singer has a guitar, at the show, plays it like four times. The rest of the show, that shit is just strapped to his back to make him look chic. Also, the dudes are like fifty, or something dinosaur like that. Spoon though, sugarcoated concert viewing bullshit. Britt Daniels wails, but seriously, that dude just stands there, sings his smug ass songs, wears glasses, and walks off stage. If I wanted to hear exactly how Spoon sounded on album, I would listen to their album and cut myself, not go out in a crowd filled with people wearing north face, who are giggling constantly mind you, and stare as a collective body at a band who just demands their MTV. Thoughts? Anyone seen them live? Cause really, they are the shit pits, man. Let’s talk about it.

Saw Vampire Hands last night at some baller art space. That was pretty decent. Those guys are face melting, I tell ya, just skeletal shit, you know? Oh god I just had some of that beer I found, that shit is flat and warm. Gads. But yeah, dancing in public. Pretty fun concept. Not at a Spoon show though, let me tell ya, stay at home and write ur shitcan poetry, do not see these guys live, it’s like watching a never ending episode of the O.C. where, instead of people punching people (which is awesome), kids are happily socking themselves in the face (which I guess is sort of also awesome).

Does anyone like Hall and Oats? I’ve got Rich Girl cemented in my head right now. That shit is hot!

Also, shout out to my buddies in Portland. Been thinking bout dat place and it has left this surreal imprint on my mind. Those rose tree things still hanging out? Vamp Hands coming ur way and Will, are you not playing a show with them? Oh yeah, with that Booze Howl (tight name btw). I’m glad I’m from the Midwest and not that far out there west coast. Those people are Kentucky Fried Crazy and so far from Kentucky.

I miss hanging around ur guyses couch. Did I tell you I watched three OnDemand movies in fast forward? One of those was American Psycho 2 and that was so terrible. Actually, I don’t even need to write about it. Look at a blank piece of paper and imagine that’s how the movie makes you feel. But not inspiring or anything, just void and blank and well, like a retarded person.

I propose we have a community discussion regarding Dan Bejar’s lyricism in “Foam Hands.” Lyrics open for interpretation…

1. “I didn’t know what time it was at all.”
2. “Since you’ve been gone, me and the King have been steadily growing apart. He lives down the hall.”
3. See # 1.
4. “Foam Hands.”

Questions to ask oneself while listening to song…

“Why did he write this song?”
“Why are whistle choruses fucking rad?”
“Who is the King and why does/did he live down the hall?”
“Introducing Angels?”
“Why didn’t he know what time it was, at all?”

Well, that’s about it for now. Here’s a message from the action man…

Ima go comb my hair, dog.

Sit Down, Children, Sit Down

You’re just in time! All day sounds from
The White City’s streets litter spring scenes
Like gum stains stuck to sidewalks asleep
With black pavemented dreams. Never to
Be wakened. Never to be disturbed

While trains billow by like a jet’s sonic
Boom circa 1948. Nuclear weapon drills
Remember kids under seats. “Duck
And cover” translates to the image, the
Horror, of dust all over everything…

Because that’s all there is going to be
Lincoln Park and its intercity elementary
Dust all over
Mayors dealing daily with corruption and
Posh aldermen
Duck and cover an inefficient postal service
And Segway
Driving CPD dust all over flighty businesses
And Civilians
In dire need of self-medicated sleep duck

Garbage trucks and sixteen wheelers
As 21st century tombs embalmed in
Filth by means of crisply baked bones
Speckled white left sparkling like

Diamonds setting foot on
Ancient Cambodian clay-

more mines.